


Iroh's Humiliating Tickle Torture

by StormButt



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormButt/pseuds/StormButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One week after being captured after the betrayal of his nephew, Prince Zuko, the once great General Iroh is held captive in a cell designed to make fire benders useless.  A solider arrives, with the order to rip Iroh of any pride he might have remaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iroh's Humiliating Tickle Torture

**Author's Note:**

> I don't believe I'm posting this here. It's really dark and REALLY fetishy on my part.

The former and once great General Iroh stood in the center of the room. He had been standing for three days now, even in his sleep. By force there were stone cuffs binding his hands in their entirety also linked around his ankles, which he had been forced to stand in water for as long as he had been here. The room was humid, always humid. There was no ventilation, only the steam that dampened the air and clung to his body on top of the sweat that was already running down his back in racing droplets. His arms were sore, his feet were sore, even parts of him that he never knew could be sore were so.

Iroh knew what kind of chamber this was. In his youth when he was a respected member of the military the once great general knew of these chambers only as neutralizing cells. A cell where fire was never meant to spark meant only for the most ruthless and dangerous of criminals. Due to the extreme conditions of the cell, as Iroh was only now beginning to truly understand, prisoners were not permitted to be kept here for more than a day's time. Even with those rules it was more like a cooling off cell where angry firebenders went when upset and nothing more. But Iroh had been an exception, of course he had. It had been a week since Prince Zuko, his nephew, had lost his path and turned against him. The discomfort of the cell was only a drop of ink on an already soiled piece of paper. His chest ached if he thought too long about it, and his eyes stung.

The firelord hadn't believed Iroh when he said he wouldn't try to escape. And it was true, Iroh wasn't going to try to escape. Not yet. The right time was nowhere close, and Iroh wasn't nearly ready.

The cell was also dark, lit only by the small windows in the cells walls high above. He could hear the wind rustle and knew it was high. He tried to shift his body ever so slightly, the cuffs holding his arms above his head and ankles submerged in the water only giving him an inch of room to work with.

Iroh had been stripped of everything long ago, but this was a new experience. Iroh was naked. His clothes had been torn from him so roughly the fabric had ripped and the once powerful general was left to stand in exposure of his naked flesh, sweat freely running over every inch of himself. When he tried to look down he could see only his fat, round belly sticking out and just the last inch of his softened cock. His pecs were chubby and round as well, and only further showed off how helpless he was. His chest was smooth, legs even more so. The only hair aside from that on his face and balding head was spread around his cock, grey and aged like he was.

There was a creak. Iroh looked up just in time to see light crack the darkness and the shape of a door made entirely of steel opening up. It was a large door, and one with enough strength that two men were needed to open it. The men were fully in fire nation armor, followed by a third who wore a slightly different helm that signified he outranked these men. Perhaps not a general as Iroh once was, but certainly more than a private.

"Well well well," The man said, his voice awfully bored sounding. It was the first voice Iroh had heard in three days. He had been brought food and water in silence of the guards, and as such actually hearing a voice surprised him. He didn't let it show on his face, however, and kept his head angled downward towards the water he was forced to stand in.

There was a small cart of some sort wheeled in behind the man. Iroh couldn't see what it was given that it was covered in a sheet. His face was obscured beneath a mask, but his hands were strangely bare unlike the soldiers around him. He had his arms crossed, and was drumming his fingertips against the red of his upper arm. He was looking Iroh up and down, a glimmer of his eyes revealing a certain expression that Iroh recognized all too well. Studying, reading, call it what you want but this man wanted something out of Iroh.

"They say you refused to talk." The man said. 

Iroh said nothing. The man took a step closer and reached out his hand. He snuck the tips of his fingers under Iroh's chin and forcibly lifted the former general's head, a thumb tracing upwards to run over the gag that had been placed in Iroh's mouth. His fingernail dragged gently over Iroh's beard and fingers soon became intertangled in the hair was well. Something about the touch despite its gentle surface felt wrong. The man's hands were cold like ice somehow, and the glimmer of his eyes underneath the mask made Iroh almost show a glimmer of expression on his own face.

"Poor poor general," The man said. "My name is Hanzo, and I have heard so much about you. Though I doubt you've heard of me, old man." He squeezed Iroh's chin and forced his head to stay still. Iroh looked at the mask in the shadowy light provided and felt his heart rate involuntarily speed up. He tried to speak, but nothing came out audible under the gag.

Hanzo pulled on the gag slightly by running his thumb underneath it. This gave Iroh's tongue and lips just enough room to move and barely make out where he was saying.

"I know of men like you," Iroh said, his voice calm. "An interrogator of sorts, I'm guessing. I have nothing to say anymore, and if I did, I would have said it long ago,"

"Good guess, old man," Hanzo chuckled. It was deep, and somehow hollow. He moved his fingers from Iroh's chin to around his neck, leaving the gag to slip around Iroh's mouth once more. The fingers squeezed gently, and Iroh realized the man's hands were thick and strong. Iroh felt his heartbeat race unexpectedly at the roughness displayed. "There are times where this nation of ours needs answers, and I am happy to provide them given the right... subject to speak with."

"Torture," Iroh said in a muffled tone. Hanzo lifted up his other hand and pulled on the gag, this time letting it fall and slip around Iroh's neck over Hanzo's hand. "Is Ozai truly going to be so barbaric to do worse to me than he already has?"

Iroh tried to show no emotion, but it was growing difficult. There was a hole in his heart that had been growing since Zuko had lost his way, and thinking about it only made it expand.

"I have lost my life, my nephew, and you have even taken my clothes." Iroh put the slightest hint of a bitter tone in that last one. The masked Hanzo looked down to Iroh's bare body as if to confirm. "What more does Ozai want?"

"Hehehe," Hanzo chuckled. A long silence passed where Iroh's neck was vaguely squeezed. "Your pride, dear general."

The hand around Iroh's neck dragged downward slowly, not just running but clawing with his fingernails roughly down from Iroh's neck to the center of his chest. His fingers found their way to Iroh's peck and then over his nipple where a sudden squeeze made Iroh's pupils widen, and the urge to let out a sudden cry of mixed surprise and pain was stifled only by his force of will. The nipple was pulled, and Iroh involuntarily tried to inch forward to lessen the sharp and strange pain in his pec. However the stone cuffs were tight and soon he ran out of room to inch, but Hanzo kept pulling and twisting, his eyes locked dead onto Iroh's own. In order to try not to cry out in pain Iroh began to pant and lean down the two inches he was allowed.

"What little there is left, I suppose," Hanzo sighed. He was now twisting the nipple and rolling it in his fingers, Iroh closing his eyes now in order to try and not focus on the pain. Finally he released it, and Iroh gasped. He looked down to see his pec around the area was now pink with irritation and still stinging. "I suppose you should have lost it all when you gave up Ba Sing Se, really."

Iroh was silent aside from his quickened breath. The sweat that had already been accumulating on his body due to the forced humidity felt stronger now, his face flushed and hot. He looked past Hanzo and back to the doorway to see the guards who had opened the door standing against the wall and staring at him, their eyes fixated. This wasn't just private, it was turning into a show. Iroh realized he had been wrong just as a chuckle came from behind Hanzo's mask. The cell wasn't the humiliation, only the warm up.

"We were taught that you were such a great general, dear Iroh," Hanzo mumbled. He stuck out both of his hands and slapped them, roughly, to either side of Iroh's belly. This forced the already large, tubby mass to jiggle and sting. Iroh jumped slightly when nails dug into either side of his already large, fat belly and pulled against his flesh to somehow pull it out further. "Now here you are. Fattened up like a pig. Sweating and wheezing after I've barely even touched you. Honestly how ever am I supposed to even pretend I'm ripping away any pride you may have had if you carry around this fat lard all day?"

Iroh felt his belly jiggled by force. It displayed just how tubby he was told he was, and made worse by the constant chuckling from Hanzo. The masked man wasn't just doing his job, but enjoying this. Iroh's face grew warmer still. He had spent years trying not to let words bother him, but the verbal abusive on top of the physical was beginning to get to him. He was exhausted and tired, and his toes ached horribly so from standing on them for three solid days. He was caught off his guard, naked and exposed and humiliated as it was.

"Y-You are wasting your time," Iroh said sternly, though couldn't hold back his slight stutter. "The fire nation has more important things to do than humiliate some old, defeated man I suppose."

"That's where you're wrong, General," Hanzo said, stepping forward until his boots were just before the pool of water Iroh had been standing in. "I've waited years for even the chance to bring down somebody like you a peg. Now that you're nothing but a traitor and my prisoner, I'm going to savor the taste of you breaking."

Hanzo lifted two hands, both bare with all of his fingers spread out and threateningly sticking forward like claws. He reached out both hands and settled them somewhere where Iroh didn't expect, his shoulders. At least four of his fingers on either shoulder. He had hooked his hands under Iroh's armpits and had the thumbs dug deeply into the pits, which were clean shaven and soft to the touch. Dampened only slightly by sweat and the general humidity of the room, Iroh felt those thumbs on either side of his body push down and then drag.

"A-Ah..." Iroh let out a sound before thinking. It was a dangerous game he was playing with this man, a dance he was held hostage in. He knew with just that little sound he had given up, if not entirely lost, said game. The thumbs began to travel with the fingernails they possessed, and then dug into the holes of Iroh's pits even deeper and half massaged half stroked half scratched in such horribly slow strokes that Iroh could do nothing but hold his mouth open and pant. In the water his toes curled, and his arms in the stone cuffs above him tightened involuntarily to try and pull downward and hide his sensitive pits.

"Tickle tickle tickle," Hanzo mumbled. That was it; three words. Iroh felt his eyes water trying so desperately so not to laugh. It tickled so much despite Hanzo just barely touching him. He tried to squirm side to side and back and forth, but the hands were hooked so much that he couldn't do anything even if he desired it more than anything in the world. With each passing second, that desire grew. 

"Gnhe..." Iroh made a sound. It was barely a laugh, but enough so that the holes in Hanzo's mask simply lit up. It was a sign that he was breaking, Iroh knew this. He could never take back what he had just let slip away.

"Good," Hanzo stated. His fingers unlocked themselves from around his shoulders only to find a new home in his already pinkening, tormented pits. Tracing in circles with ten fingers to worry about Iroh let more giggles slip out. Small, loud, quiet, quick, long, desperate giggles. All of them were worse and spaced out smaller and smaller in between. Even though Hanzo was going slowly it was so much torment that Iroh was quickly losing all sense of composure. All he could do was desperately curl his toes and tighten his arm muscles. There was no hiding, he was nothing but a toy to Hanzo right now. A great big giggling tickle toy to be used. The sweat and humidity that had been plaguing his body for three days now had an unexpected side effect, and it was to soften his skin more than it already was. He was soft and damp all over.

"Hehe..."

"Ha... Ha... N-No..."

"Ghe... ho... ho..."

All forms of giggling escaped Iroh's lips. His face was bright red now just trying to hold it all in, but it was getting difficult. So much writhing and squirming and panting was coming from Iroh, that he didn't even realize just how hard his cock had become until Hanzo's bare hand had brushed against it, squeezing around his shaft.

"G-Gah!" Iroh cried out. He didn't even realize he had become aroused by nothing more than the tickling sensation in his armpits. He felt embarrassment and shame wash over him briefly before he regained himself. He didn't want to break, not to this man. Not to the man who was trying so hard to do so.

"Chubby here has a chubby, huh?" Hanzo asked. He raised his brow, squeezing Iroh's manhood harder. Iroh bit his lip. The hand squeezed more until Iroh worried it might actually damage him soon, and only then did Hanzo release. He turned around suddenly, and Iroh felt his shoulders slump. All of his weight was pushed to his wrists, which burned when they dug into the cuffs. He wanted to collapse, but the cuffs wouldn't let him.

Hanzo pulled the sheet off the cart, where Iroh saw many tools. A brush, a feather, a bucket full of ice, a pinwheel made of metal, everything Iroh saw did nothing but make his heart race faster. Hanzo ran his fingers over his toys and then picked up the feather. It was blue and large, half as long as Hanzo's arm. It had to have come from some hawk-bear by the size of the thing. Hanzo turned around, waving the feather slowly. 

He came up to Iroh and used his free hand to grab the man by the chin and then pulled gently on his gag that was around his neck still. He unknotted it and pulled it free. It was still damp with Iroh's saliva. Iroh watched Hanzo fiddle with the gag for a moment before lifting it again, this time higher on Iroh's face until it was covering his eyes. For a moment Iroh thought about saying something, but bit his lip when the thought even crossed his mind. He was blinded now, and hear a strange movement of metal before a clink on the floor. He felt Hanzo's hand touch his pec and squeeze his nipple, luckily not pulling so roughly this time.

Then a face pressed to his armpit, and a tongue unleashed itself there right onto Iroh's bare pit. So wet and slimy and slippery the tongue of his tormenter was. He could feel Hanzo's face and feel wrinkles of age rub against his chubby arm, but none of it registered past the gasps of strange unsure feelings coursing through his body at the licking of his pit. He lifted his legs a few inches and tried to squirm, but then a new torment found way on his body. The end of the feather that Iroh had stupidly already forgotten about in his few moments of licking found home on the tip of his cockhead and began to drag it's rough, coarse bristles down the length of his hardened member. The feather swirled around his cock length and over his balls and then back up his shaft. Helpless was a word Iroh would use to describe his situation.

"N-No!" Iroh cried out involuntarily when the tongue ran for what must have been the ninth time over the whole of his already saliva-wet armpit. The feather wasn't just teasing him, but exciting him. He was so hard that he could feel it now even as he moved. His cock pulled on his skin and his head was exposed. Every time the feather touched his shaft he cried out in a humiliating mess of giggles and grunts trying to hold it all in. Too much torment to focus on, not enough ability to focus on staying silent. Iroh could no longer pretend it wasn't bothering him, for he was becoming short of breath just trying not to laugh.

"A-Ahahaha!" Iroh cried out just as the feather swirled for the fifth time over his balls. He wouldn't beg, only laugh. The tongue found home in his pit once more and he laughed louder, arms tightening and legs squeezing shut but only pushing out his cock more. The feather ran up his sides and down again. No matter how much he squirmed in his blindfolded blindness the torment always followed.

When it all stopped Iroh couldn't help but feel his body twitch and the ghost of his laughter hiccup out of his mouth in random bursts. Hanzo was in front of him again, and touching both of his nipples with something different. It wasn't feathers this time, but what felt like paint brushes.

"I've always wanted a big, fat canvas to do my work on," Hanzo joked and then chuckled. Iroh swallowed a lump in his throat, beginning to understand that anything he could potentially say might make his situation worse, and at best give Hanzo what he wanted. Not that Iroh was in any position to refuse.

The paint brushes moved slowly. They focused on his nipples and big, chubby pecs in a way that Iroh hadn't felt before. The soft bristles were not better or worse than the squeezing and pulling, but on the same level. So different yet just as much torment as his mouth opened in a pant to keep in his giggles that he had managed to subdue for the time being. When he shook his body back in forth in a blind attempt to stop the light tickling he only felt his belly and pecs jiggle in flow. Hanzo was laughing, not in general but at him. Iroh realized he was giving him a show of his humiliation, throwing his fat body around like that only excited Hanzo more, for the speed of the nipple torment sped up and spread deeper. These paint brushes were hard and thick.

"H-Hohohehee..." Iroh whimpered quietly. He was in fact whimpering by now, no longer trying to resist the giggling in nearly the same capacity as before. The blush on his face did nothing but make Hanzo more excited.

One of the paint brushes stopped and on that side Hanzo pressed his body to and lifted his hand to touch Iroh's chin. Very briefly and without warning lips pressed to Iroh's neck in a forced kiss that made a strange purr-giggle come from iroh's mouth. A tongue unleashed itself, and now Iroh realized Hanzo had a beard, because it was tickling his upper neck too. Another kiss, strangely enough, and the nipple tickling on his right pec continued.

Hanzo pressed his lips to Iroh's own now, rough and forceful and pushing against Iroh in a dominating sort of sense. It was not a kiss of compassion or lust but power. It was showing Iroh just how little he had to let a man kiss him and tickle him and play with his body in any capacity he wished for. He ran his hand down iroh's chest and over his thick belly during the kiss, feeling him up and squeezing at random and letting his fingers dance. When he forced his tongue in Iroh's mouth Iroh did something he regretted instantly, and that was to moan. He couldn't help it, for now Hanzo was squeezing the very head of Iroh's cock and pulling and twisting. Hanzo pushed on Iroh into the kiss until Iroh cried out in pleasure at his cock being touched.

Hanzo pulled away slowly, saliva of Hanzo still in Iroh's mouth when the forced kiss broke. He still couldn't see his tormentor's face.

"Get him down," Hanzo barked. A few 'yes sir's!" were chanted and Iroh heard boots clank against the floor. It took a minute, but soon the weight in his cuffs above his head gave away and Iroh fell down to his knees in the water that soon splashed up against his body. He was still blindfolded, and before he could even think the two men who were the ones to release him were now grabbing him by either arm and forcing them behind his back. When he struggled Hanzo laughed, and Iroh realized it was because his naked body was jiggling in a funny and humiliating looking way.

Soon Iroh's hands were tied behind his back in chains. The cuffs around his feet were also gone, and his ankles were tied together also in chains. He was out of the small pool, but now on the floor on his back writhing like a fish out of water with his half-hard cock exposed and his gut wide and for Hanzo to see. Iroh heard footsteps approach, and then a boot press to his chest.

"Pathetic," Hanzo grumbled. Hanzo's armor clanked when he sat down, and Iroh felt his ankles be grabbed. He felt disoriented and lost in his surroundings, the ground cold against his flesh and damp from the humidity.

Iroh's feet were now in Hanzo's lap. Iroh somehow had been not only anticipating this, but expecting it from the moment his armpits had been tickled. The only thing more sensitive than his pits, were his soles. Wide and covered in wrinkles from age they weren't exactly the prettiest of soles, but they were one thing more than anything else. And that was...

"Ticklish?" Hanzo questioned. A single finger rode up Iroh's foot from the base of his heel to the tips of his toes. It dragged right, and then dove down his other foot. His soles were wet and even more wrinkled than usual due to the water, but that seemed to make them more slippery. Hanzo grabbed something and began to rub it up and down Iroh's feet and over his toes. It felt like a towel or something similar to dry him off. 

"Hehehe..." Iroh whimpered, his toes and soles writhing.

Hanzo chuckled. Iroh whimpered. The torment was beginning.

From out of nowhere something soft and large touched Iroh's left arch. At first the man thought it was another paintbrush, but it was too wide and circular for that. When it began to move Iroh squirmed his feet and giggled helplessly, and realized after several laps that it must have been a makeup brush of some kind. It ran over his arches and heels and between his two feet. When it touched his toes Iroh bit his lip and made a muffled laughter kind of a noise. His feet were kicking as best they could in their chains, slapping away the brush. But Hanzo was persistent, and let it run over his feet at least ten times to cover every single inch of Iroh's poor, helpless soles.

"N-No more!" Iroh cried during the last few brushes. "H-Hahahaha! P-Please! Why always my feet?" Iroh begged. He was begging now. He was tired and naked and on top of it abused in every sense of the word. He could take no more of this torment as the brush delicately touched his already soft feet.

"Spread him!" Hanzo called.

Iroh heard something shift just as his soles got exactly fifteen seconds of a break from the brush until the next torment came along. The men from before were now on Iroh again and were untying his ankles and pulling his legs apart. The men were silent, as if they had done this several times before. They were no longer an audience simply part of the act.

Hanzo stood up while Iroh squirmed and seated himself down behind Iroh, touching his nipples and giving them gentle nips with his fingertips.

"I can make it stop anytime you want, if you do just one thing for me," Hanzo said. His tone was devious and a hint angry, as if he was almost sad he was giving it to Iroh that easily.

"S-Stop what?" Iroh asked. He stuttered, exhaustion taking over all of his senses.

Iroh heard shuffling and movement of metal against rock and the sudden heat and burst of a flame. Suddenly something touched his foot, and it was cold and wet. Iroh's mind flashed to the ice bucket and he knew. Ice was being not just rubbed but forced against his right foot. Iroh cried out uncomfortably and began to pant. Over his toes and against his arches the ice traveled, sending uncomfortable urges of muscles tightening over his entire body.

If that wasn't bad enough, something hot was near his left foot. It was the entire opposite, like fire. But that wasn't all, the flame moved and heated his entire foot. At first it wasn't so bad, almost like letting his feet touch the sun's ray. But then he felt something splatter against his toes and run down the arches of his feet. It was hot and burning, like wax. It hit again, and Iroh realized that it was wax. A candle was being tipped over his sole and letting hot wax touch his sensitive and soft skin.

"A-Ah, p-please!" Iroh said in a gasping kind of tone. The literal polar opposites of torment on either of his feet on top of the fact Hanzo was literally on top of his belly now groping and squeezing at his helpless nipples made Iroh begin to beg once more. Composure and silence and everything he had hoped to achieve just thirty minutes before was gone. On top of the fact his cock beyond any reasonable means was still hard as a rock. "W-What do you want?"

"What do IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII want?" Hanzo annoyingly drew out the sound of his 'i' so that the ice could be forced underneath his toes and the wax could pool in his arch and harden. "Well all I want, dear Iroh, is for you to ask and beg me to lick your feet and place them against my cock so you can rub your toes against my shaft and make me cum all over your wide, old man feet. It's the least your body is good for in the fat, tubby shape it's in, don't you think?"

While Hanzo was saying all of this, Iroh was moaning and gasping at his left foot, now almost entirely splattered with burning hot wax hurting so. The ice was numbing his foot, and his body couldn't handle the sensations any longer. His nipples were stroked over and twisted.

No more, Iroh thought. He didn't want any more torment.

"P-Pleheheese!" Iroh cried out, his nipples being tickled. "Lick my feet! Lick them and let me touch your cock with them!"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask." Hanzo chuckled. All he had to do was clap now and the torment stopped, but the pain and numbness persisted when Hanzo got off of Iroh's chest and settled by his feet again.

It was a long thirty seconds when Hanzo brushed away all the wax from Iroh's foot. It tickled slightly, but didn't sting nearly as much as the shame of what he had just begged for. He couldn't take it back, as if he had just let valuable information slip.

Hanzo lifted Iroh's foot to his mouth and unleashed his tongue. Slowly his lips dragged up Iroh's pink and tormented foot and went to his toes where he suckled on them for a few seconds each. He seemed to relish the wrinkles and width of them, for soon Iroh was biting his lip at the strange not-quite tickling sensation but otherwise alien touch on his sole. He heard the shuffling of armor, and soon something fleshy and hard was forced against the foot Iroh had just had ice on. Still wet and slightly numb his toes were forced to curl around the shaft.

Hanzo chuckled, looking down at his tickle toy.

Iroh was blushing and regretting his decisions and on top of that words. Hanzo's nails were running over his toes now right before his tongue. When he spread his own legs and put Iroh's feet on either side of his cock Hanzo forced them up and down slowly, and then released his hands. Iroh's feet sat still, forced to the cock as he sat there barely breathing.

"Pump it," Hanzo demanded. Iroh swallowed a lump in his throat. He moved his feet up and down slowly, his soles holding the cock tightly. Trying not to think of what he was doing was hard, but actually doing it was harder. His legs were exhausted, his body more so, and on top of that Hanzo wouldn't stop tickling his toes with the feather from before.

"Now, boys," Hanzo said. They came forward and to Iroh's front. Iroh's feet stopped on Hanzo's cock when they grabbed his wrists and pulled them upward and forced him on his back to expose his armpits again. "You know the drill!"

"W-What drill?" Iroh called out. And then something sharp and pointy poked his left armpit while a makeup brush touched his right. They stroked slowly, the pinwheel rough and the makeup brush slow.

"Until I cum, you're armpits will be tickled." Hanzo said. "Now hurry up, move those feet."

"A-Ahahaa!" Iroh cried out. He began to move his feet again, but it was slow and difficult due to his lack of sight and no direction or experience in doing something like a footjob to another man. He was distracted by his poor helpless pits being tickled by fingers and brushes and pointy sharp pinwheels that he simply moved his feet frantically against Hanzo's cock.

Time passed slowly, and Hanzo made no signs that he was even close to letting his seed out. It felt like years but in reality it was probably only minutes of Iroh's never ending ticklish hell being forced against his body.

"BA-BAHAHAHA!" Iroh was screaming. Ticklish toes, ticklish pits, hard cock. He couldn't take it any more. He was sweating so much his body was burning and eyes were watering with tears that went down either side of his face. He couldn't stop giving the footjob if he wanted, for Hanzo was now guiding his feet up and down his shaft and stroking his toes every time they went fully down.

"NOHOHOHOH MOHOHOHORE!" Iroh begged in a scream. The once great general cried helplessly for the tickling to stop. He was wheezing and gasping for air with sweat on every inch of his body, unable to last any longer.

And then he felt something hot hit his feet. Hanzo grunted and suddenly Iroh's feet were covered in the man's hot, sticky cum. The tickling on his armpits stopped, and he was left wheezing and red faced. His belly was dripping in sweat. Iroh was dizzy, and still forced to be hard.

"Good, General," Hanzo said, pulling apart Iroh's feet. "Just one last thing."

"N-No," Iroh begged, trying to move at the thought of more torture. "P-Please, I did what you asked..."

"Oh, you'll enjoy this."

The men without order were already pinning Iroh down. His legs were spread further and suddenly his hard cock was sticking upward perfectly. On one side the makeup brush touched it, on the other the pointy, sharp pinwheel. Lastly right between his legs the feather Hanzo had been using was put to his balls.

"Just until you cum," Hanzo assured. "Wouldn't want to leave you hard and wondering if you loved all of this, which I know you did."

"P-Please, no," Iroh begged. "T-This isn't right, I don't need t-to... t.... HAHAHAA!" 

Iroh couldn't finish talking. His cock was being tickled on all angles. His body thrashed and jiggled, and in seconds Iroh knew that he was nowhere close, and this torment didn't seem to be doing anything but forcing his cock to remain hard.

"N-OHOHOHOHOH!" Iroh begged. "NO MORHOHOHRE TICKLING NOHOHHO MORE!"

"Oh, don't worry!" Hanzo shouted. "Most traitors only take three or four hours to cum from this, I'm sure you'll last longer!"

And with that, Iroh laughed harder. His ticklish cock stroked and poked on every level he could imagine.


End file.
